Blood Relatives
by Kelly Beck
Summary: Angelique Fairclough, a 3rd year student at Hogwarts, is still trying to forget her mother's death and the swirl of questions about the father she never knew. Is he dead? Or could her long-lost father actually be the man on the wanted poster? on-going.
1. Chapter 1

It was the ominous flickering of lights that awoke me. I'd been asleep, curled up at the compartment window seat, thinking for one vague moment that I was back home, and Aunt Marigold was messing with the electricity again, but then someone shook me. Hard.

"Angelique," someone breathed, "Angelique, wake up. Quick."

My eyes flitted open and I saw that I really wasn't back home. I was in the compartment with the three unnamed students from before, and it was dark. I sat up, alert, aware now that the train had stopped moving.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice slurred slightly from sleep.

"Dunno," the girl in front of me said, "Think there may be trouble with the train."

And it was then that I noticed the icy forming on the window. It spread too quickly, like liquid, and laid it's thick mantle on the glass, obscuring the dark scene of night outside.

I pulled out my wand and stood up, tugging open the tall glass door and poking my head outside. Peering around, I saw that many were doing the same.

I spotted somebody I knew, a few doors down, "Hey, wha-"

I was cut off mid-sentence, thrown backwards by a violent jolt. The train had just shook. With one last flicker, the lights went off and it was dark.

"Someone's boarding..." Whispered the girl from before. She had her face pressed to the window, eyes screwed up in concentration. Her profile was just barely outlined by the faint moonlight outside. It was getting colder. Even through the dark sweater I wore, I felt goose bumps erupting all along my arms. Whoever was boarding, they weren't normal.

"Everybody, keep calm." I said. It was truly a hypocritical statement, seeing as I was very far from tranquil myself. I shook, but not just from the cold. I felt funny... Sad. Remorseful. Hurt. I was back seven years ago, and HE was there. He was hurting my mom. He was-

I stopped. No, that wasn't happening. That was long gone. I was getting distracted. But that's what they wanted to happen.

I quickly thought. I thought of Hogwarts, my home practically, of my friends and whispered, "_Expecto Patronum_."

A glowing, silver wolf poured from the end of my wand. It illuminated the whole compartment and the dark hall outside.

"Whoa..." One of my company breathed, "I didn't know you could-"

"Shh..."

I slid open the compartment door, pointing my wand ahead of me. The illuminated wolf trodded ahead, it's padded feet silent on the thick hall carpet. It was warn now, like a thick, reassuring blanket had been thrown over me. I felt safe, even though the threat was just ahead.

Doors slid open, voices became clear in the silence, scared and excited. Whispers echoed.

"Girl, go back..." Someone urged.

"No, don't you know what's down there?"

Those whispers were drowned out by, "Don't you know what that is, you toss pot?"

And then there were remarks about the beautiful wolf and more about the question of my sanity.

But then it was all gone. A thick silence had set and the train itself seemed to be holding it's breath. Someone screamed.

And then it came- a sound that grew louder and louder. A hoarse, rattling breath, like a skeleton being sucked into a vacuum.

The dementor.

Correction- dementor_s_. They were tall, gray, ghost-like, a single hole where there the disgusting mouths were. 30 feet away down the train hall, too far away to feel the presence of an enemy. They were opening up each compartment door, one by one, sticking the heads in. For a moment, I was reminded ridiculously of a mother checking in on a sleeping child.

Someone cried out in fear.

I struck quickly, jabbing my wand forward. The wolf, liquid-like, sprinted forward and the scabby dementors melted away. I turned and through the next car window, I saw someone else mimicking me. A man in shabby robes had just expelled another dementor.

I was just wondering how many of the creatures had really boarded the train when the lights came back on. Everything was warm again, even as my patronus faded. I let out out a breath. they were gone.

"Miss Fairclough."

I blanched, hearing that menacing voice for the first time in a month and then pale fingers had curled on my shoulder and jerked me around. I was looking into the sallow face of Severus Snape, which was- as nearly always- contorted with anger.

"You should be inside your compartment."

"Where a couple of those slimy dementors would have _eaten_ my soul?

Exaggeration.

"They wouldn't have _attacked _you, silly girl. They were aboard to check for..."

"For?"

"Never you mind." The angry professor jabbed a finger at the door closest. "Get back to your seat, before you earn a weeks worth of detention."

He passed me, black robes billowing behind, and I stopped myself from cursing him.

The train was moving again, already at full speed once more. We would all be at Hogwarts soon enough. I stored my wand in my pocket and went to change, dismal.


	2. Chapter 2

I breathed in the crisp, night air as I- along with the other students years- crossed the dark grounds towards the carriages. September leaves crunched underneath my feet and I caught the faintest smell of the great feast to to come. My stomach growled. I headed to the nearest carriage, but then hesitated, looking at the dark, dead looking creature in front.

"Creepy how we can't seem them..." A voice breathed next to me. I grinned at the sudden appearance of Evangeline and she hugged me, her chestnut hair tickling my cheeks.

"Yeah," I said, feeling guilty that she thought I really couldn't see them, "Creepy."

I glanced at the place where the giant, winged horse stood. It's flesh barely clung to it's proturuding bones. It's eyes glowed red as rubies, looking round at me. The thesrtral snorted, and scuffed it's feet, impatient. The only way anyone could know for sure what a Thestral looked like was if they had seen somebody die. I shuddered, remembering a violent flash of light, screaming-

"It's so great to see you again," Evangeline said, interrupting my thoughts, to my gratitude, "Did you have a good summer? How's your aunt?"

"It was... decent." I laughed, "Yours?"

"Alright. I'm just glad to be back."

"You weren't on the train," I said. It wasn't a question.

She looked sheepish for a moment. "Was, but..." She trailed off and I sighed.

"You got into trouble again? Good God I thought you would've learned by now," I laughed but then asked, "Who did you curse?"

"Draco Malfoy," she said in an a-matter-of-fact tone, as we climbed into a carriage and began rolling towards the castle, "Kept messing with the first years, so I gave him an extra pair of ears! Had to sit with the prefects after that, though. It was so awkward when the lights went out like that..."

She paused.

"But tell me about what happened on the train?" Evangeline's question reminded me of the dementors and my stomach twisted. Already, so many people knew.

"It wasn't a big deal. Anybody would've done the same." I said, keeping my tone a little off-hand.

"But didn't you realize? They were only searching the train, not intending to hurt anyone. Except..." I looked at her face, with held an expression of curiosity, "They _did _go for someone. Heard it was Potter."

"They weren't looking to lock him up, were they?" I said, half laughing.

"Nah, that's why there so creepy in the first place. Never know if there gonna try to do you in, whether your a convict or a harmless little truffle."

I paused in my retort as the carriage came to a halt and in the next moment, I was milling through the tall, grand doors of the vast Hogwarts castle, heading towards the Great Hall to the awaiting feast.

"Who's so important that they need to literally stop the whole train to search?" I finally asked.

I couldn't think of anyone except...

"Sirius Black."

"Duh!" Evangeline confirmed, "It's all over the news. Even the _muggles _were warned about him."

"Talking about that lunatic?"

And that's when Edaniel Greenly showed himself, pushing through a few first years and grinning down at me with all the haughtiness of a rich fifteen-year-old boy. A green and silver prefect badge gleamed on the front of his robes.

"So what if we are?" Evangeline snapped. I knew she didn't like Edaniel much. Nor did I, really.

"Uh-uh," he waved a finger and gestured to the Prefect badge, as they we hadn't already noticed it, "No cheek. I've got authority."

"And I've got a wand that I'm going to shove-"

I pinched her hard, seeing the rising color in the boastful Edaniel's face. He recovered and then sneered not at Evangeline's remark, but me.

"I could see why your discussing that weirdo, anyway Fairclough," he said, "Seeing as your mother was one, anyway."

I felt my stomach twist, my blood boil. He was talking about my mother. My _mudblood_ mother, to him.

"In fact, I'm wondering why your not all buddied up with that freak, Potter. Heard he had a run-in with the dementors as well..."

"You keep your mouth shut, you git," Evangeline spat, again defending me. I could see she was slowly getting a months worth of detentions.

"Just go," I hissed under my breath, and then stumbled into the Great Hall.

"Death Eater scum..." my friend hissed and then made a noise that sounded much like an angry cat.

"He's too goody-goody to be one..." I joked, trying to hide the fact that he'd hit a nerve in me.

My anger about Edaniel's remark soon faded into curiosity when I crossed the isle to take a seat with the other Gryffindors. People turned to look at me. They whispered. I caught bits and pieces of a few things:

"It's that girl from the train..."

"Was _she _the one that scared those dementors away from Harry Potter...?"

"She's only in her third year..."

On and on, it went. Why did people have to make such a huge deal of things?

"Settle down, settle down," came the kind, familiar voice of Albus Dumbledore. Everyone went silent and looked up to the podium at the old headmaster.

He began his speech with something out of the ordinary, speaking of dementors and Sirius Black, which gave all of the people around an excuse to glance my way. My eyes scanned the staff table and I looked away under the piercing gaze of Snape.

_What's up with that creep? _I thought, _Probably trying to curse me or something..._

"The dementors will not pursue students or disrupt our day-to-day activities," Dumbledore continued, staring out into the sea of students, "but just be warned: give them no excuse to harm you. They choose not to differentiate whom they're searching and who may get in their way."

Tailing these words was an ominous silence, to where I fumbled with the hem of my robes, out of nerves, but then the dank mood was lifted when the old professor declared, "Well that is all to be said. Tuck in."

This was met with the clanking and clinking of many plates and silverware. Around me, people chattered and talked about their holiday and I caught the tail end of a few ridiculing statements from Draco Malfoy. I looked around, seeing his target as Harry. Looked as though he was teasing him for something about fainting...

Many students were rehashing the events on the train or quoting lines from Dumbledore's speech. It was all spreading like wild fire.

I was happy to dig heartily into a plate of lamb chops, but my thoughts kept sticking to one subject, one name: Sirius Black.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week was just as gloomy and overcast as the lessons were to be. Herbology in the sickeningly moist greenhouses, double Potions with Slytherin, and an entirely new class: Divination.

"Good evening class."

A slow, slurred voice drifted from the trap door in the center of the room, and then a thin woman with gray, flyaway hair and 5-too-many shawls had ascended the latter. My immediate impression of her was the image of a large eyed bat, wearing glasses that magnified her eyes to impossible proportions, twinkling layers of beads around her throat, and a head band that kept the mass of gray, frizzy hair from falling into her face.

A few people snickered, but the oddly dressed woman didn't seem to hear- or care.

"I am professor Trelawney," she said, still maintaining her overly dramatic tone, "and I will be teaching you all the deep and mystic arts of divination." She looked around with her large eyes, "Together we will venture into the future as never before, explore the unseen, discover if you possess the _sight_."

At this, she waved her arms dramatically, hitting a nearby table in the process, startled a trio who'd been having their own whispered discussion.

"She seems a bit nuts..." Whispered a girl from Ravenclaw.

"Today we will be reading tea leaves," Trelawney said, "I would like you all to pair up with someone, and then we will begin."

To my disappointment, everyone partnered up too quickly, leaving me uncertain. A pretty girl with sandy-blonde hair detached herself from a red-headed boy and his friend and joined me, tucking a necklace in her robes and sipping a little from the tea that had been poured.

"Don't mind if we work together?" She asked, "Those two always pair up." She gestured to the table she'd left. I saw Harry sitting there, and a red-head I knew to be Ron Weasley.

"I'm Hermione," she said, "you must be Angelique."

I smiled at her, finishing off my tea, "Yeah."

"Now I would like you all to take the cup of the person sitting opposite you." Professor Trelawney now said.

She started asking questions about Neville Longbottom's grandmother and urging a few of the others to "open their minds." There was a commotion about a dog at the bottom of a cup Ron Weasley was holding. Professor Trelawney was flourishing her arms dramatically and speaking one moment in whispers, the next in loud yells. Judging by what I heard, the boy Harry Potter was going to die very soon. I shook my head, wondering how this woman had gotten a job here and Hermione mumbled something about Ancient Runes. She and I exchanged cups.

I flipped through the pages of my text book while Hermione concentrated on the brown dregs at the bottom the cup she was holding, as though trying to solve a terribly important puzzle.

"This is a bunch of rubbish..." She muttered, but then trailed off, looking back and forth at her book and the bottom of the tea cup.

"Looks like I've found _something_," she said, sound unsure of herself.

"What's that dear?"

I hadn't noticed that Professor Trelawney had drifted up to our table. She was now peering over Hermione's shoulder, gazing down into the sodden tea remnants in deep thought.

"Interesting," she mumbled, "curious. Intriguing."

I became a little irritated, "What's interesting?"

"You live with your aunt, correct?" She asked, surprising me. I nodded.

"Mmm... Your tea leaves, m' dear, show otherwise."

I was taken aback. _This woman may be a little nuts, after all._

She took the cup from Hermione's palms, leaving the girl a little vexed-looking. The estranged Trelawney studied it, rotating it, angling it, and moving it closer and farther away from her vision, until finally she spoke only a few words.

"He seems to miss you."

I blinked, utterly perplexed. I opened my mouth to question her words, maybe even her sanity, but with a flourishing of her shawl, she departed, moving onto the next table.

Hermione must have saw the look on my face, because she leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry. I wouldn't take her too seriously if I were you."

Others had turned to look my way, too whisper again about the night on the train or to question the odd woman's words.

Not only was I vexed that some crazy woman thought she could tell my faring through tea, but I was also angry.

Because for the rest of the afternoon, I repeated those words in my head, validating that in some part of me, I knew something about them was all too real.


	4. Chapter 4

Being unusually clumsy one friday afternoon, I earned one detention and and a mark of D on a potions assignment. Armadillo Bile and Essence of Slug were so much more dreadful when one spilt them all over their robes, I learned.

I had company, though. A black haired boy with green eyes and glasses.

"Potter" the dreadful professor Snape's voice echoed menacingly in the empty potions classroom, "You will write for me 10 inches of parchment on why it never pays to be an exceedingly arrogant smart-alec."

I listened to Harry reply back angrily and Snape only giving him more to do. He reminded me a bit of Evangeline. I nearly laughed.

"Miss Fairclough, whatever is amusing you, let it end and begin scrubbing up the bile that you sopped all over the floor this afternoon."

I quieted, stopping myself from glaring at him.

"Wipe the smirk off your face," he added.

_Wash the grease out of your hair. _I thought back. I imagined myself telling my least favorite teacher those exact words as I gathered a sponge and bucket from a storing cupboard, rolled up my sleeves, and set to work removing the slime from the hard stone floor. It made the job a little less pitiful.

It didn't help my situation when I realized all I really had to do was cast a cleansing charm upon the floor and the scum would be gone in a second, but Snape had made sure to keep my wand with him in his office so I wouldn't be tempted to cheat. The bile had congealed and now stuck to floor as though determined not to yield.

I heard the sound of a pen scratching, breaking the thick silence of the classroom, and then remembered that Harry sat somewhere behind me, writing lines and cursing under his breath. I felt sorry for both of us.

I sat up, the muscles in my back protesting, and looked around to where he sat. Neither of us had spoken the time. We'd never spoken at all, really.

"What time do you suppose it is?" I asked him.

He stopped writing and for a moment, I thought I'd made him angry, but then he shrugged lightly and looked over at me.

"Dunno. I'd say it's time to get this detention done with, though." He sat his quill down, flexed his fingers, and then yawned, "You know, before I _die_."

He was talking about that day in Divination. I laughed.

"This stuff isn't coming up," I said aloud, cautiously allowing myself to attempt at conversation. Anything was better than a pure two hours of silence.

A thought came to me, "Have you got your wand?"

And in a moment, he'd lent me his wand, I said, "_Scourgify,_" and then the bile was erased from the floor as though it were never there.

"Thanks so much," I said, handing his wand back. I stood up, my knees sore and aching.

"Guess you wouldn't know anything about how it never pays to be an "exceedingly arrogant smart alec," do you?" He asked me as I gathered up my things.

I nearly laughed again, "I try to stay out of trouble."

"Except for the train."

I looked up from my books, "You heard about that, too?"

He shrugged, "Well you've probably heard about me at some point too, right?"

I blushed. I didn't want him to think I'd talked about him behind his back.

"Yeah, but-"

There was a rattling of a door handle and then Snape emerged from his office, causing my stomach to curl.

"Not dilly-dallying with Potter, are you?" He asked me, voice anything but light-hearted, "He needs to concentrate if he wants to finish before daybreak." His eyes flickered to the spotless floor.

I waited as he inspected my handy work, looking as though I'd merely swept my problems under a rug. I wondered if he knew I'd used magic to finish off the rest."

"Well," he said finally, as though it killed him that I'd done a decent job, "I see you've finished."

"I see you've managed to state the obvious," the retort tumbled from my lips before I could stop it. The rage flickered in the professor's black eyes and his hand twitched, as though he was reaching for his wand. He stopped himself, and only sneered at me.

"You insolent, little child," he hissed, "You don't know how much like your father you really are."

It took a moment for the shock to register. My brain went into overload as I thought for a face that many could recognize in a millisecond. A father's face.

The only thing my brain could produce was a simple, childish question.

"You... Knew my father?"

It was an odd question, seeing as when Mum had been alive, she'd never discussed him. As far as I had knew, I'd been conjured out of thin air.. In my mind, a father to me had never existed. But this vile man had said it. Pulled the trigger in my brain that removed a fraction of doubt.

I saw Harry had stopped writing and was staring at me now, in such an odd way. I forced myself to look back at Snape.

He opened his mouth, lips curling and curving to suggest a snide reply, but then the dungeon door flew open and aflustered-looking Professor McGonagall stepped inside. She hurried right past me and I saw the Daily Prophet clutched tight in her hand.

"He's been sighted," she whispered urgently to professor Snape, but then quieted when she saw Harry and I in the room, noticing for the first time we were there. It was odd, seeing the strict woman so devoid of composure.

She gave both me and Harry an odd look before waving her hand and saying, "Away, both of you."

She permitted Harry to leave, Snape voicing the promise of tomorrow- and I had just enough time to see the grizzled, broken looking man on the cover of the newspaper McGonagall held, his face screaming, his muted voice begging to be released from captivity- before the greasy haired Snape ushered Harry and I out and shut the door in our faces.


	5. Chapter 5

A face was staring at me through the darkness. It was a man's, a scruffy black beard on his chin, a squarer jaw, thicker eyebrows. His features revealed the ghosts of good looks, slightly polished away by a manic expression and the workings of time. His mouth was open, screaming silently, his neglected teeth like gateways into the darkness that was his throat. His eyes, so strikingly familiar, swallowed me, tugging me into their dark depths, the eye lashes closing, barring me in, behind a soft, palid eyelid...

With a jolt, I was awake, lying in the darkness. My breath was fast and I saw it clouding above me in white wisps. Even with the sluggish blanket of sleep still covering my brain, I registered that it was freezing. Terrible, bitingly cold. Dementors were near, probably right outside the tower window, searching for...

I sat up and a wave of nausea crashed over me. My brain did a somersault. I was suddenly wide awake, remembering the dream from seconds before. The face from the wanted poster I'd seen so many times previously flashed in front of me through the darkness. I tugged open my bed hangings and rubbed my eyes. Glancing at my wrist watch, I saw that it was 6 a.m. I'd only been asleep for 5 hours, due to the fact that I'd laid awake an eternity, pondering what had happened in the potions classroom.

I rolled out of bed and stripped off my pajamas, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans a sweater. I was irreversibly awake now, so it was best just to go ahead down to the commonroom.

The fire in the grate had been extinguished, but the blue-gray glow outside gave me just enough light to see a copy of the Daily Prophet lying on a low-sitting coffee table. I sunk down into the red plush of my favorite armchair and picked up the paper, recognizing it as the same edition Professor McGonagall had had.

On the very front page. A large black and white photo of a man was headed by the bold title, **"Sirius Spotted?" **

I didn't need to study the murderer's face to remember that this had been the same from my dream. I read the article, and, though short, I saw that the fact that this man had been sighted in a nearby town had frightened many people. Dufftown wasn't but miles away, and if it really had been Sirius Black then I could see why Professor McGonagall had seemed so upset.

I risked another glance at the photo, which was moving and showing the same pained, screaming expression from all the others, and my stomach churned unpleasantly. Why did this murderer's eyes look so familiar? Too familiar.

I read on to the next page, which went on into detail of rehashing why this man had been sentenced to Azkaban in the first place. It was hard to believe that one man had murdered 13 people with only a single curse. It had happened on a muggle-inhabited street, somewhere in Yorkshire. I remembered living around Yorkshire a few years previously. I'd only moved away to Aunt Marigold's after mum had gone.

The sky had lightened a few shades and I heard movement above. In a moment I heard someone groan and looked up at Evangeline, who'd just descended the stairs, looking befuddled and unkempt.

"Those things are foul," she said, referring to the dementors, "I figured that's why you came down here, because it was so cold."

"Something like that," I said, pushing the haunting face out of my eyelids. I couldn't tell anyone about that dream, not even my friend.

She eyed the newspaper in my hand, "Reading about that? I heard whoever spotted him only caught a glimpse." She said, and then yawned, as if we were discussing something casual over tea, "Probably some blind old bat..."

"Mmm." I didn't disagree.

"Well I'm about to leave for breakfast," she said, "You should come eat, too. Lookin' a bit peaky."

"You sound like my aunt," I laughed, "but I'll eat later. I need to go to the library for a bit."

"Suit yourself." With a flourish of her wand, she removed her bedhead appearance- her eyes brightened, her tussled hair untangled itself- and then she was gone.

With one last look at the face on the newspaper, I left the commonroom, bringing my battered old Potions book with me, not desiring at all anymore detentions with Snape or Essence of Slug.


	6. Chapter 6

"Turn to page 394."

I looked up from the book I was reading, my stomach taking a plunge. Snape stood at the front of the darkened classroom, black eyes scanning the rows of students until they rested on me. He flicked his wand and my book fell open with a thud.

"Miss Fairclough," he addressed me. Heads turned my way. "Please find and read for me the proper way to pay attention during class."

A few people chuckled. I saw Draco Malfoy sneer but didn't reply. His arm was bandaged up and rested in a sling at his side. He'd had the cast for about a week now, since the accident in Care of Magical Creatures last week.

"Alright," Snape announced, "five points from Gryffindor for not doing as I say."

I heard groans and people muttering to each other. Beside me, Hermione looked apologetic. I opened my mouth to reply, but then someone asked, "Where's professor Lupin?"

"Your professor is unable to teach at the present time." Snape answered, looking annoyed, yet I saw something flash in his eyes. Smugness.

Everyone knew Snape had always coveted the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I supposed his role of filling in for professor Lupin gave the unpleasant man a sense of superiority.

"What's wrong with him?" I now knew the asker was Harry. The boy didn't know how to keep quiet. I could already see him sitting in detention again.

"Never you mind," Snape said, teeth clenched, "_Turn to page 394._"

There was a commotion about the subject of the day: Werewolves. This odd change of course caused a ripple of questions throughout the classroom. The overhead projector was reeling through images of the hideous beasts, showing some where men were eaten or ripped apart. Snape's deep, monotonous voice acted like a soundtrack. It was a dreadful lesson.

"Can someone tell me the difference between an Animagus and a Werewolf?" Snape asked. Beside me, Hermione's hand shot up.

"No one?" Snape ignored her pointedly, "I'm not impressed."

"Please, sir," Hermione pressed, her voice loud and clear in the silence of the room, "An Animagus is a person who elects to turn into a creature. A Werewolf doesn't have a choice. He'd kill his own friend if he were to get in his way. And also, a Werewolf only responds to the call of it's own kind."

Behind me, I heard Malfoy do an uncanny impression of a wolf howling, with laughs from Crabbe and Goyle, who flanked him.

"That will be all, Mr. Malfoy," Snape looked grim, "And as for you, Miss Granger. Are you hard of hearing? Or do you take pride in being an unbearably potent know-it-all?"

Hermione wilted at his insult. Snape angrily took away another five points and assigned everyone an impossible essay. Harry began to protest, but I didn't hear, because behind me, Malfoy had caught my attention.

"_Ppsss..._" the blonde boy hissed and tossed a paper note at me. I opened it, cautious.

It was drawing, moving like a badly sketched out cartoon. I knew what it was. Just a cruder version of a scene on the wanted poster. A chained up man holding his convict number, a look of grim displeasure on his face. A an even more vile represention of Sirius Black.

At the bottom, Malfoy had scribbled, _Home Sweet Home_.

I turned to scowl at the boy, "Keep trying stuff like this and I'll sic Buckbeak on you."

Malfoy's smirk faltered.

"Miss Fairclough," Snape's dreadful voice brought me back, "Did you hear what I said? Or were you too busy drawing pictures?"

The class laughed. Before I could hide it, Snape had snatched the drawing from me, smoothing it out. His expression changed to something awful as his eyes swept over the page and then he looked right at me.

"Detention. Tomorrow evening."

He turned away, tossing the paper in a trash bin. Behind me, Malfoy snickered.

Dreary, I slumped in my seat, unable to concentrate for the rest of the lesson. Because both Malfoy and Snape knew something I didn't. That, I was too sure.


	7. Chapter 7

Hard and heavy rain pricked my face as it came down unapologetically. Lightning flashed white and fierce, followed by a heavy, deafening boom of thunder, and for a moment, the voice over the microphone was dimmed. It was a stormy Saturday morning and the dark sky boiled with clouds and thunder. It was the worst kind of weather for a quidditch match.

Fourteen figures, clothes in traditional red or yellow, dashed through the air, veering and swerving in the penetrating rain. Hufflepuff scored ten points, but the sound of their cheers was swallowed up by another crash of thunder. Lightning struck again, setting the tail of a player's broom aflame. In the flexing, vortex-like wind, un umbrella blew past. The whole stadium was under mercy of the storm.

I saw a flash of gold, miniscule in all of the havoc, and then a figure in dark red robes was hurtling towards it. Harry Potter had spotted the Snitch.

Hufflepuff scored another ten points, with boos from everyone around me. A Beater sent out a ravenous bludger, nearly hitting a Gryffindor chaser. Bodies flew past and the game was fierce, but...

Where had Harry gone? I'd saw him last moments before. He'd been bent on catching the Snitch.

The rain suddenly became colder. I wasn't the only one to notice. An ominous silence had descended upon the stadium, yet the players continued, unaware of the changing atmosphere.

And then I looked up.

They had come like silent wraiths, seeming to blend with the clouds. They floated menacingly, heads bent low, breath rattling in their not-existing lungs. The dementors.

They were at least 200 feet above the stadium, swirling to what could've only been…

A figure broke through the mantle of clouds, ant-like against the vast sky. Harry plummeted to the earth, apparently unconscious. Everyone was screaming. The game had stopped.

Across the stadium, I saw Dumbledore rise, fury in his eyes, to bellow a spell that I could not hear.

Because I fainted.

* * *

Things were coming into focus, slowly. I blinked and felt around. I was lying down.

"Finally, she's coming round," I heard somebody say.

"Just to think, Harry just woke up a moment ago."

"Looks like both of 'em have a complex with passing out..."

My eyes fluttered open, of their own accord. My vision twisted a bit and then everything was clear.

Evangeline smiled down at me from her place beside my bed. With her stood Hermione, Ron, and a few others who's names I didn't know.

"Wh... Where's Harry?" I asked, remember everything. It came to me why I was here. I sat up and my head spun. I was in the Hospital Wing.

"He's fine," Hermione told me, "Dumbledore managed to save him before he hit the ground. We're all glad you're okay, th-"

"You weren't so lucky," Evangeline said, cutting Hermione off. I noticed the distinct and sudden irritation in her tone. It shocked me. "You went out cold."

I looked around, "How long was I out?"

"Just about 20 minutes. Wouldn't have been that long if you hadn't hit your head." my friend said.

I felt around for a lump that wasn't there.

"Madame Pomfrey already took care of everything," Hermione said.

"Good," I looked around for my things, "Because I have to go."

"You should rest-"

"No seriously," I said, standing up. I ignored the wave of nausea that roiled in my stomach as I did so, "I have to go. Thank you guys, for staying with me!"

I'd just remembered. I had a detention with Snape. I wasn't bursting with excitement to go and sit in a smelly dungeon classroom with a man that literally hated my guts, but I knew that if I didn't show up, my detentions- and possibly, my ridicule in class- would be doubled.

Miserable, I left the Hospital Wing and set off down the hall.


End file.
